


slackjaw's old lady.

by cl3rks



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Cats, Drinking, F/M, Guns, Organized Crime, Pets, Rats, Sexual References, Smoking, Swearing, Whiskey - Freeform, alleyways, plague mention, rainy nights, this is kinda self-inserty on my part lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 06:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14443413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: She wasn't infatuated at first, a slow-growing mustache and patchwork clothing did little to fuel her fire, but he was head over heels from the moment he saw her. He knew he'd be big, one day, and he was taking her with him. (Or, in this case, she was taking him with her.)





	1. whiskey.

**Author's Note:**

> im in love with slackjaw lmao

She was… different. Where prostitutes and scuzzy men mingled, all fitting the bill for the criminals who wandered at night, she didn’t seem to fit in. Sure, she was a little rough looking, but she was tall, dark haired, and pale as a weeper, but not as gaunt and loss-beaten as others were.

Slackjaw noticed her and knew he had to speak with her, or at least catch her gaze. After all, she had been staring into her whiskey all night. He had a feeling that was her poison of choice, as the bartender knew what to slide her, but she hadn’t even touched it. Her fingers were neatly cupped behind it, but she never flinched, and her long, green-polished nails never once touched the cheap tumbler.

(All the crystal was in the back, somewhere. The owner, Gerry, noticed people tucking them into their coats when the bartender, Lachlan, wasn’t looking.)

Slackjaw glanced over at her again, watching some man lean beside her at the bar and watched a strangled smile tug at her lips, neat brows raising in the slightest at whatever he was saying. He watched as her hand finally grasped the tumbler and, to his surprise, splashed the dry beverage into the man's face. The man grumbled and walked away, the woman asking for another as Lachlan dutifully poured her one.

“Hiya, sweetie.” Some short blonde purred, trying to grasp Slackjaw's attention as he looked over her in favor of the taller woman. “Somethin' got you down?”

“No, now skeddadle.” Slackjaw shooed, taking his own tumbler with him as he stepped down to where the woman was sitting. She was staring intently into the whiskey, but now she was holding it. “What’s wrong, doll? Broken heart?” 

Her eyes moved slowly as he basically asked some version of what the blonde earlier had asked of him, voice a gentle rasp. She had to have the warmest brown eyes he'd ever seen, he was nearly breathless as she looked him over. His slow-growing mustache did nothing for her, and the mismatched clothes he wore made her quirk a brow. 

(With time, she’d see the mustache thicken and she would grow fond of the color combinations.)

He saw her grip tighten on the tumbler and instinctively pressed two fingers from his right hand to her right wrist, his left being occupied by his drink. Her wrist was cold, and he assumed her hands were as well, but it didn’t seem to bother her. A genuine smile tugged at her lips this time as she pushed upwards and carefully brought the rim to her plush lips, a dusty rose color meeting his eyes as his hand dropped to the bar. 

“No, I don’t think I’ve got much of a heart left to break, handsome.” She told him gingerly after finishing her sip. “But you’re not welcome to try, so I’ll be going.”

She dropped a few coins down on the bar, sliding them to the man across from her. His dark red hair swept in his eyes before he pushed it back, swiping up the coins to tuck them into the slots beneath the register. 

“Let me walk you home, at least.” Slackjaw offered, eyes ablaze with desire to _have_ her as she stood. By any power out there, he felt weak. She was stunning beneath the low light of the pub’s bar and he had to catch himself as he glanced down, her heavy boots hitting his to prove just how tall she was. It felt more equal, that way, knowing he could look her in the eyes without straining his neck. “The streets of Dunwall are dangerous, doll.”

“I know,” she replied easily, that smile widening as her broad shoulders moved, rolling slightly as her torn jacket strained in the slightest against them. “But I don’t need a bodyguard. I’ve faired just as well on my own for years, thank you. So, go back to that blonde, huh, handsome?”

He watched her go to the door, pushing it open in the slightest as her long hand pressed flat against it.

“Blondes aren’t really my type,” Slackjaw called after her, his body leaning forward as he pushed his chest out in some borderline-macho way. The woman snorted a laugh, the sound charming to the man standing beside the bar. “I mean it.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you, handsome, cause I think you’re exactly _her_ type.” 

She left without another word and Slackjaw sighed, posture dipping as he glanced to Lachlan.

“What’s her name?” Slackjaw prodded and Lachlan chuckled deeply, head shaking. “What?”

“I wouldn’t dip into that fountain if I were you,” but Slackjaw reiterated with a gruff _“her name?”_ and Lachlan rolled his eyes. “Al Vernice, likes to deal unregistered arms to criminals and likes to sharpen bones into knives, so I'd be careful.”

“Why’s that?”

The man behind the bar raised his brows knowingly, tilting his head. “Cause the man who hurt her hasn't been seen out in his normal alley for a few days… and she likes human bones, makes those knives long.”

Slackjaw chuckled, danger dipping into his eyes. He licked his lips, shaking his head in the slightest as his shoulders regained their natural posture. “Well, I’ve got a long walk back, anyway… maybe I’ll run into her.”


	2. trigger happy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a different approach would work out better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slackjaw's bein' weird tbh

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He felt like a lovesick child and his men could tell. They’d been put on watch for her, anytime someone saw her, they’d let Slackjaw know so he could pinpoint wherever the hell she roamed. Eventually, it came to the point where he’d been sitting in his rundown office, feet up on his makeshift desk when one of his men practically barreled through the door. 

“I saw her, uh, out by the docks but-“ He gasped, bending to put his hands on his knees as he struggled to regulate his oxygen. “She said to stop following her.”

“Did she have a boat?” Slackjaw questioned, remaining calm as the man, Dellen, stood straight and nodded, inhaling deeply to help his lungs. “What kind?”

“Small, beat up thing. It wasn’t a regular dingy, though. It was probably double the size of one.”

“What was on it?”

“Crates, just enough to weigh the thing down.”

Slackjaw nodded slowly, grin peeking up under his growing mustache. “Heading in or out?”

“Out.”

“She’s dealing across waters!” Slackjaw laughed heartily, pulling his feet from his desk as he waved his man off. “Good work.”

“I’ll have you know, however – she didn’t hesitate to fire at me.”

Slackjaw quirked a brow as he stood, tilting his head. “Trigger happy… I’ll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed :333


	3. anchovies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting, he hadn't heard a purr like that in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i had to do some dishonored research to see if cats actually existed and i guess they must've been in the world but i gather that some died off which !!! sucks

No matter where you went in Dunwall, it was cloudy and gray most of the time, if not just cloudy. This time, it was genuinely dark out. Night had come as day had gone and rain was pattering down on the worn buildings as the weary people hurried to their destinations. One, however, stood out. 

Slackjaw was walking hurriedly, hands holding a newspaper over his head as he walked, the rain coming down heavy now. He almost didn’t hear her, or for that matter, see her, over the rain as he moved. Mud caused his boots to slide as he walked.

“Hey, handsome,” he heard softly, but he knew the owner of the voice had likely yelled it. He turned sharply, seeing a tall figure beneath a roof’s overhang. She was standing near a slightly curved alleyway as she beckoned him over. “Little late to be out, don’t you think?”

“I could say the same ‘bout you, Ms. Vernice.” Slackjaw replied, letting the rain pelt at his shoulders and neck. She watched him curiously, chapped lips pursed in the slightest. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I am, technically speaking.” She gestured to the alleyway as Slackjaw furrowed his brows, thinking to himself, _surely, she doesn’t live in the alley…_ He followed her, this time, as she ducked into said alley, leading him through the increasingly narrow space between the two tall buildings. Slackjaw tensed as Al pulled something from her pocket, the rain still getting to both of them, the buildings only giving minimal shelter from it. He saw her stick it in the wall in front of them and, to his surprise, turned it and pushed open a door. “Welcome.”

Slackjaw felt a chill run down his spine as the door opened, a sudden warmth flooding him from the insulated home. The two stepped inside, the door being shut quickly by Al as she bolted it.

“This is your home, a nook between two buildings?”

“Yes, but that was the back way, handsome. The front looks a little better, I will boast.” She told him, gesturing to a black chair near the small fireplace. “Now sit, dry yourself. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

He did as instructed, amazed that such a woman could not only be aggressive and trigger-happy, but equally kind and nurturing, to some degree. Slackjaw made himself comfortable, setting his newspaper down on the table as he heard soft sounds coming from what he assumed to be the kitchen. He didn’t know how spacious the house was, but he heard a soft sound and suddenly a _cat_ was in his midst. 

He thought they’d gone extinct in this area, he hadn’t seen one for years. His eyes were attached to the dark feline as she stretched, eyes closed with relief before she curled back in on herself, walking forward to jump on the couch nearest the chair Slackjaw was in.

As she came closer, he noticed her eyes were different colors. One was a bright, nearly piercing blue whereas the other was an amber-yellow. He tilted his head and stuck out his hand, hesitant in his movements as the cat came closer, perching on the arm of the couch to sniff his hand. There was a split second when he thought she may show her teeth, but she dropped her head and bumped his hand affectionately. 

“Don’t go eatin’ any rats, cat.” Slackjaw warned, hearing a gentle purr emerge from the black cat. His lips curved up at the edge, a lopsided grin replacing his scowl. “It won’t cure your appetite.” 

Al emerged from the kitchen with a beat-up tray, two cups on it with a small tin of something beside them. She walked slowly, careful not to drop it or trip as she made her way over, gently setting the tray on the table before the fire. Slackjaw pulled his hand back from the cat, moving for one of the cups. 

“I see you’ve met Roxanne.” Al conversed, going for her own cup to carefully sip the liquid inside. Slackjaw tested his and quirked a brow, wrinkling his growing mustache at the familiar taste. “It’s warmed whiskey with honey, good for frigid days and colds.”

Slackjaw licked his lips and nodded, not sure what to say. He watched as Roxanne jumped from the couch to the table and went for the tin of whatever was on the tray. He peered at the cat as she ate, eyes closed as she chewed. “Anchovies?” 

“Yes,” Al murmured, tilting her head to gently stretch her long neck. She was about to say something, even opening her mouth to do so before a crack of lightning rushed through the sky, the three witnessing the flash from the windows before thunder rumbled a few seconds after. “Do you have any plans tonight, handsome?”

He glanced at her, tender eyes watching him as if she was genuinely concerned. “My men will wonder where I am.”

“With a friend,” she concluded, smiling sweetly at him. He shifted in his seat as she talked, watching him with a fond intensity. “Do yourself a favor, Slackjaw, stay the night. The storm will only get worse and walking in it isn’t ideal.”

“I’ve walked in worse,” he boasted carefully before continuing. “Besides, I have my newspaper.” 

Al chuckled deeply, the sound warm as the whiskey in her cup and as sweet as the honey mixed within it. “I’m sure you have, handsome, but I’m _asking_ you to stay the night.”

He looked at her fully now, those tender eyes flushed with something more lustful than previous. He clenched his jaw, shifting under her gaze. He rolled his shoulders to ease some tension. (No woman had ever made him feel uncomfortable before.) He spoke carefully, cautious as to not read too far into her words, concerned over being too _forward_ for once in his life: “The plague can be spread through-“

She laughed again, this time more clipped. He could get use to hearing her various laughs. She set down her cup, the small thing clinking as it scrapped against the saucer beneath it. “Well, I’m not sick – but, if you have something to tell me…? Let it be known.”

Slackjaw swallowed thickly, licking his lips once more. He noticed the cat had since gone, all her anchovies had been devoured. He didn’t answer, but she knew he wasn’t sick.

“There’s a room down the hall, two from the right – if you wish, come visit me – otherwise, my couch is a perfectly comfortable place.” She stood quickly, leaving the fire to burn itself out as she left the area for the hallway. Slackjaw sighed to himself, watching her go. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself. “Have a goodnight, handsome.”

He heard her call down the hall as he moved and settled on her couch, cursing himself for not taking her offer. Her bed – and her body – were probably warmer than the couch on any given day, storm, or no storm.

(At some point in the night, he saw two eyes staring at him in the darkness from the table. He found himself watching them as thunder rumbled and lightning cracked through the sky. He fell asleep to the sounds of purring mixed in.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whOaA ! hope ya enjoyed

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
